


Gossamer and Thread

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bonding, Developing Relationship, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, mentions of abuse, soulbonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5239454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stones of power hold all magic in the realm and the Queens who wield them must be protected. For generations, Seekers have scoured the realm searching for children with the potential to become part of the Queens' guard. Potentials are raised—first in Nurseries and then the Citadel—secluded from touch until a new Queen is crowned by the stones. Only the most skilled Potential will be chosen to become bonded to the Queen, serving as her protector and consort for the rest of their lives.</p><p>Phil Coulson—once Potential, war veteran, and now Citadel trainer—has never met anyone like Clint Barton. While his path to the Citadel has been unorthodox, his skills are undeniable. Phil believes he can foster Clint's skills until there is no question who most deserves to become the next Queen's guard, but when the time comes, can they willingly sever the fragile threads of one bond to serve another?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to my beta and artist, kultiras. This fic would never have been written without her continued encouragement, support, and patience.
> 
> Art for the fic: [Gossamer and Thread (Cover Art)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5239673).
> 
> Written for [Marvel Big Bang 2015](http://marvel-bang.livejournal.com/).

"Happy Birthday, Clint."

Clint looks down at the pouch of blackberries his mother has just handed him and then back up at her with a large smile. "Thank you, Mama!" There's a thud from behind the door of the bedroom and Clint carefully tightens his hold on the top of the pouch. Even at six, he knows the penalty of what even a small indulgence could cost her. "But what if—"

"It's your birthday," his mother interrupts quietly. Her eyes go sad as she smooths a hand over his hair. "I only wish I could give you more."

"I love blackberries, Mama."

"I know, my love. Now off with you. Up to your tree. Barney has already started your morning chores—his gift."

Clint gives her a last hug and scampers off, knowing that his time alone is limited. He climbs his favorite tree all the way to the top so that he can watch the birds soar overhead. He's careful to eat only half of the berries so that he can share the rest with Barney later that day. As he's about to start his climb down, Clint's favorite hawk swoops down and perches on a nearby branch.

"Good morning. It's my eighth birthday today. I would share my berries with you, but Mama says you only eat mice. I'm sorry I haven't caught any for you lately."

Clint had been amazed the first time the hawk had perched nearby, seemingly unfazed by Clint's presence. His mother had theorized that the hawk may have once belonged to an austringer and remained unafraid of people. All Clint cared about was that the hawk continued to visit with him, though not every time Clint climbed. He'd even chanced bringing the hawk a mouse they'd caught in a trap, offering it to the hawk at the end of a long stick, and been delighted when the hawk had taken it before flying off.

"I can't stay much longer," Clint says to the hawk now, who looks back unblinkingly. "I need to get back before Father wakes up. Thank you for coming by and wishing me a happy birthday."

The hawk blinks and Clint smiles back before starting his descent. He's most of the way down when he hears his father's raised voice. He freezes, but curiosity gets the better of him and he jumps to the branch of another tree that will bring him closer to the front of the house. His father would not normally be awake for another hour.

"On your way Seeker! There is nothing of interest to you here!"

There is a tall, dark man wearing all black at their gate, Clint's father glaring menacingly at him. The man pays no attention to Clint's father's unwelcome greeting and continues to stare passively at him. "I am told you have two children."

"Neither of which have the brains or brawn to be a Potential. Leave us be."

"Sometimes, the roughest of diamonds shine the brightest."

"There ain't no diamonds here," Clint's father scoffs. "Even if there were, it's none of your business."

"It is an honor to serve the—"

"Honor don't give me a wife that's not barren or extra hands to work the farm. Like I said, there ain't nothing of interest to you here."

"I appreciate your time," the man says mildly—although Clint glimpses something harder in his eye—before turning to continue down the road.

Clint's father doesn't bother watching the man go, walking back into the house with a slam of the door. Clint should really sneak back to the barn to ensure he isn't missed, but something compels him to follow after the stranger. He hops from tree to tree until the man stops just past the edge of their property to rest in the shade. Clint continues to watch until the man speaks without looking directly at Clint.

"You know, it's impolite to stare."

"Oh! Sorry."

It's only after Clint speaks that the man turns his eye toward him, appearing surprised at where Clint is actually perched high up on the tree. "It also not polite to not introduce one's self."

Clint deftly lowers himself from the branch and sits on the fence. "I'm Clint. Uh... youngest son of the Barton house."

"I am Seeker Fury."

"What's a Seeker? Why was my father angry with you? What's a diamond? What happened to your eye? What's a— Sorry, um... again. That probably wasn't polite either. My brother says I ask too many questions."

"I'm not bothered. I much prefer an inquisitive mind to a closed one. I lost my eye in the last war. A diamond is a precious gem that takes careful time and skill to make sparkle. I cannot know for sure why your father became angry with me."

"My father is more often angry, than not. You did not say what a Seeker is."

A small smile appears on Fury's face, seeming beyond his control. "Quite right. A Seeker is a person, like myself, who travels the realm in search of children with the potential to become part of the Queens' guard."

"My mother says that the Queens are very beautiful and powerful. Why do they need guards?"

"Their guard protects them from those who seek to use their power for evil and not good. Potentials must have special skills and train for many years before they can serve a Queen."

"But you need permission to train them?"

"Permission to meet them, yes."

There is a loud crash from the direction of the house and Clint startles, realizing he's been gone too long. "I have to go." He scampers back up into the tree and then turns back to look down at the man in black. "Seeker Fury... If you find a Potential, do you take them away? For training?"

"Yes."

"If you come back in the spring, you can meet my brother at the Market. I'm sure he'd make a great guard."

"Why not you?"

"I need to take care of my Mama and besides," Clint says with a shrug, "I'm nothing special."

Clint trots across the fence and jumps up to the next tree, making his way as quickly as possible back to the farm and hoping he hasn't caused too much trouble for his mother or brother. He doesn't see the Seeker look after him for several long moments.

"That's where you're wrong, Clint Barton. We will meet again."

~^~

Something inside Clint tells him not to speak about meeting Seeker Fury with his mother or even Barney. As summer melds into fall, Clint's thoughts often stray to the Seeker and the possibility of his returning in the spring. Their father's temper has flared even hotter since the Seeker's visit and all Clint can do is hope that his brother, at least, can find a way out.

On a cold, early winter morning, their father takes their mother into town, intending to offer her services as a kitchen maid to pay off his debts at the tavern. They never return.

All thoughts of the Seeker disappear under Clint's grief over his mother's death and the shock of being sent several towns away to the nearest orphanage. He does his best to adapt to their new life, learning to avoid the gang of older boys and how to sneak extra food to the younger orphans. The day that Seeker Fury returns to town in search of the Bartons is the day that Barney decides it's time to run away from the orphanage.

They throw their lot in with a traveling circus that cares more about gaining some extra hands than questioning where they came from. Life with the circus is hard work, but they are kept well fed as long as they complete their chores. They learn quickly from the other circus hands that it can’t last. The weather will eventually turn harsh, making it more and more difficult for the circus to travel until they’ll be forced to pack up until spring. During winter, only the performers will be valuable enough to keep on. Clint and Barney need to find a place with the performers before winter or they’ll be forced to leave and fend for themselves.

Barney spends as much time as he can with the various acts, trying his hand at everything from the strong man to the tight rope. Clint is still too small and young to catch the eye of the performers and does his part by helping Barney with his assigned chores. It’s the Swordsman who finally takes a small interest in Barney, agreeing to train him after hours to see if Barney has the skill needed to become part of his act. Neither of them expect the Swordsman to take a stronger interest in Clint.

"I can shoot!" Clint whoops as he rushes into the stable one autumn morning. Barney has already started mucking out the stalls and barely glances up at Clint.

"You’re late. Rake's over there. What're you yapping about?"

Clint automatically picks up the rake and starts cleaning the other corner of the stall. "I went to see if the tamer needed help and walked by the Swordsman’s tent. Said he’d seen me throwing stones yesterday. He has a bow. I hit the center once he showed me how and nearly every time after. I mean, he kept moving the target and I was really close a lot of the time. Like when I first learned to use your slingshot, remember? Only different and better. It felt... amazing! Like I was meant to--"

"Clint! Take a breath and tell me why I care about you playing with a bow and arrows."

"He thinks they can make a show of it, of me. And he's going to take you on too. We don't have to leave in the winter." Clint grins wide enough to make his cheeks hurt as Barney turns wide eyes toward him. "We get to stay."

Barney stares at him for a long few seconds and then he drops his own rake to pull Clint into a hug. Then they're both laughing and pretending not to see the tears in each other's eyes. Clint holds Barney tight and finally voices his biggest fear of the winter.

"We get to stay together."

~^~

"You don't belong with me anymore."

It's been six years since Clint first learned the joy of having a bow in his grip. Through all the years of hard work, training hours upon hours every day to hone his skill and remain a performer, that joy has never abated. Barney never seemed to find that same joy with his blades, but all that mattered was that they were both valued performers with the circus. They didn’t need to fear being left behind. Clint had thought they were happy, until tonight when Barney had led Clint up to the training platform and then pushed him off.

"Barney, help," Clint pleads, fighting to keep his grip on the platform as his brother looked out into the distance. He thinks of calling out to the others, but they're unlikely to hear him from the dinner tent and he can't believe that Barney actually means to harm him.

"The Swordsman thinks another war is brewing. He says there's always money to be made during a war, that he's getting too slow to stay with the circus. I'm not good enough to stay without him. He wants you for you aim, but I don't want you with us."

"I don't care where we go. I'll do whatever you want. Please just help me up."

Barney finally looks back down, meeting Clint's eyes, and squatting down to lay his fingers over Clint's. "I wish it were that simple. Goodbye little brother."

Barney pries Clint's fingers away from the platform and Clint falls. He doesn't remember the impact, only the blinding pain before the darkness takes him.

When Clint next opens his eyes, it's into the one-eyed stare of Seeker Fury.

"You," he says gravely, "have been very difficult to find."


	2. Early Days

Phil blinks his eyes open and sees a kaleidoscope of blues, greens, and golds dancing in the light. He blinks again, confused when the colors shift and pull back. He frowns, disoriented enough to think that he doesn't want them to go. The colors pull further away and coalesce into a pair of eyes and a handsome, youthful face that looks back at Phil in concern.

"You really should keep better track of your surroundings."

Phil scrambles to sit up, bringing a hand up to his head when it flares in pain that quickly recedes into a dull, but persistent, throb. He scowls at the young man kneeling beside him, recognizing him as one of the new batch of Potentials that recently arrived at the Citadel. The Potential only smirks and moves to stand as the rest of the group inside the training room gathers around them. Phil takes note that, while the other Potentials are all wearing the customary training uniform, the sleeves of the first young man's shirt seem to be missing, leaving the skin of his arms exposed from his shoulders to his wrists where gloves—at least—cover his hands. 

Skin-to-skin contact is forbidden with the Potentials to prevent accidental bonding before they can be chosen by a Queen. They're trained from a young age to become accustomed to wear leather gloves—the strongest protection against magic—but Phil does not remember ever needing to remind any of them to wear sleeves. 

"Are you injured, Trainer Coulson?" Sitwell, one of the other trainers at the Citadel, steps forward and offers a hand out for Phil to take.

Phil lets himself be helped to his feet before glancing at the rest of the Potentials. They all bow their heads respectfully, acknowledging Phil's status as a senior trainer and his reputation for only taking on the best of the best. He and a few of the other trainers, like Sitwell, will be choosing a single Potential to train while the rest will be split into smaller groups with the other trainers. The Potentials all straighten as Phil's gaze lands on them—backs stiff and shoulders back like they were taught in the Nurseries—with the exception of the first one. He has migrated to the rear if the group and is standing slouched against his bow looking bored.

"What happened?" Phil asks.

"My apologies. I'm afraid it's my fault," Sitwell admits. He motions toward the bored Potential with the bow. "Barton was beginning to look bored with our range and so I challenged him to seek a more suitable target."

Phil looks over at Barton, who shrugs nonchalantly, and then up to where Sitwell is pointing. One of the chains that normally holds a light orb is now missing its basket, which must have been what struck Phil on the head as he'd entered the training room. He bends to pick up the fallen basket and sees that the cut link is severed cleanly through the center. Phil can't help being impressed at the accuracy of the shot, especially considering the distance between the range at the far end of room and the change in light from there, to this area.

"I suppose I should be grateful there was no orb in the basket," Phil says wryly.

A few of the Potentials laugh along nervously, clearly unsure of the reaction expected of them, and Phil suppresses the urge to roll his eyes like Barton does. He meets Barton's eyes and the Potential doesn't look away, unlike his peers who would automatically drop their eyes in deference to Phil's rank. There is no disrespect in Barton's eyes, only indifference, and Phil wonders what it will take to garner genuine emotion from this particular Potential.

"I am unsure whether to congratulate you on your skill or your luck, Potential."

Without hesitation and without looking away from Phil's eyes, Barton pulls another arrow from his quiver and fires it across to the other side of the training room. Phil barely holds back a gasp at the speed and surety of the Potential's movements, not needing to hear the resulting sound of another basket crashing to the floor to know that Barton hit his target. An awed murmur spreads throughout the group at the display of skill and Barton lets a cocksure smirk spread across his face for their benefit. He doesn't, however, move his gaze away from Phil. It is the Potentials that are meant to be scrutinized during their first weeks at the Citadel, but Phil is the one left feeling the need to prove his worth under the weight of Barton's stare.

The dinner bell chimes, breaking some of the tension, and the trainers quickly herd the other Potentials out of the room. They leave Phil and Barton alone, neither of whom have moved.

"Your marksmanship is impressive," Phil finally says, "but please refrain from causing damage to the Citadel the next time you wish to show up your peers."

Barton's eyes immediately shutter and Phil knows that he's failed whatever test this encounter had become. Barton starts to turn and follow the others out of the room when his eyes land on something over Phil's shoulder. His face lights up in recognition, the large smile that breaks across Barton's face reminding Phil that he, like the other new Potentials, is only eighteen.

"Seeker Fury!" Barton greets warmly.

Phil experiences a sudden, unexpected desire to earn the same affection and respect shining out of Barton's eyes as the Head Seeker approaches them.

"Clint," Fury greets just as warmly and surprises Phil by opening his arms for the younger man to step into. "Causing trouble already, I see."

Barton steps out of Fury's embrace, eyes wide with concern. "I am sorry, Seeker. The range was no challenge and they—" He shakes his head and drops his head dejectedly. "It doesn't matter. I was wrong and will take any punishment you see fit. I did not mean to cause you shame."

Fury's eyes burn with a righteous anger as he uses a finger to lift Barton's chin. "You will never cause me shame by showing the potential I have always seen within you. Yes, it would be better for you to find a more suitable outlet to prove your skill, but I will always be proud of each and every accomplishment you make. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Fury nods, moving his hand to clasp Barton's shoulder. "Remember also that I sought you out long before I learned of your skills. Your aim is not all you are, so you would do us both justice by not forgetting that fact. Now go. I have never known you to pass up a meal."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Barton grins and gives Fury a small salute before running out of the training room.

Once they are alone, Fury turns toward Phil with a raised eyebrow, waiting for his reaction to the exchange he just witnessed.

"Seekers and Trainers are not to show favor toward any one Potential."

Fury laughs. "You will find that Clint proves the exception to nearly every rule."

"He is the one you were seeking all those years?"

"Yes. While I'm saddened that I could not save him from all that he's suffered, I cannot say I would wish otherwise. Clint's fire and personality is unique and I often wonder if we do wrong by the others—raising them in the Nurseries until they all speak with a common voice by the time they reach the Citadel."

"We have saved many from lives in the slums and starvation," Phil reminds him. "Besides, you and I both know that the strongest personalities emerge despite the best attempts of Nurseries to tamper them."

"True."

"What is the word from the Capital?" Phil asks, concerned over what Fury's sudden appearance could mean. "I was not expecting you to return from Triskelion so soon."

"The talks with the Asgardians concluded early and I wished to check on Clint. Are you thinking of taking him on?"

Both of Phil's eyebrows go up in surprise. "Are you attempting to sway my decision?"

"I wouldn't dream of disrupting your ordered and unbiased assessment of a Potential's ability."

"I would take him on if you asked. I owe you that much, at least."

"Which is exactly why I am not asking. If you take him on, then Clint needs to know it was because of merit, not due to favoritism or charity. All I ask is that you give him a fair chance." Fury holds up a hand before Phil can voice his protest. "I know that you pride yourself in being fair, but Barton's quirks are numerous and would frustrate even the calmest of Banner's monks."

"I will keep that in mind. What makes you immune to Barton's quirks?"

"Oh, I was far from immune, but Clint has heart and it's that heart that raises him above the other Potentials I have found. The rest, well... let's just say he grows on you. Besides, I am known to favor our stronger personalities."

Phil decides it's better he not know whether he's included in that distinction and waves toward the doors. "Shall we get dinner?"

"After you, Trainer Coulson."

~^~

Barton's quirks begin to make themselves apparent the next day as the Potentials spar with one another. Most of the matches are over in a few minutes and even the more evenly skilled pairs take no more than ten minutes before one of the Potentials gains an upper hand. It isn't until Barton's match has gone on for twenty minutes that the others begin taking notice. Phil has been watching from the beginning and has fought a smile the entire time.

Barton could have won the match in seconds, but has never attempted to take down his much larger opponent. Instead, he's encouraged him and periodically given pointers on why Barton is able to anticipate and counter each of his moves. He dodges a kick and side steps a punch, sliding behind the larger Potential and patting him on the back.

"Good. That's better. Next time, try not to twist your knee in the direction you're going to kick." There is no condescension in Barton's words or tone, but his partner growls and charges again.

"Barton!" Maria barks as Barton jumps neatly out of the way. "That is quite enough. Pin him and let's move on."

Barton nods and executes a series of blows so fast that they're almost a blur, before sweeping his opponent's legs out from underneath him. With one arm caught beneath his body and the other pinned to his back by Barton's knee, the other Potential quickly yields. Barton then jumps to his feet, helps the other boy up, and holds a hand out for him to shake. The handshake is accepted with grudging admiration and the two walk away with Barton still giving feedback on the fight.

"I keep telling him that I'm the trainer, not him, but damn if I haven't seen anyone half that good before," Maria grumbles.

"Are you thinking of taking him on?" Phil asks. With that kind of skill at hand-to-hand combat, he would be a good fit with Maria.

"Stones, no. Have you talked to him? He's hilarious, but we'd kill each other in a week."

"Are you sure? I have never seen anyone move that swiftly."

"Swift? You needed to have seen him on the range last week. Today was nothing in comparison."

Phil hums in thought. Speed along with the marksmanship Phil had witnessed would make a formidable combination—an easy fit for their Range Master. "Is Sitwell taking him on then?"

"Jasper wants to, but he can see that their personalities are too similar. He doesn't feel he can remain impartial." Phil smothers his grin as Maria narrows her eyes. "Yes, Phil. I understand what I just said and it's a constant wonder that I haven't felt the urge to murder my husband in all the years we've been together."

Phil lets his smile grow as he follows Maria out of the training room, Barton on the forefront of his mind despite Fury's confidence in Phil's impartiality. It was Fury who had once found Phil and brought him to a Nursery as a Potential, Fury who had guided Phil toward service in the army when the need for a new guard hadn't materialized, and Fury who had convinced him that he was fit to be a trainer despite the injury he'd sustained during the war. Fury's latest find definitely warranted Phil's attention.

He's never spoken to the Head Seeker about it, but the rumor around the Citadel is that Fury had spent years searching for Barton after meeting him as a young boy. He'd eventually found Barton with a broken back and arm, taking it upon himself to nurse the boy back to full health. Barton was, by then, many years past when most children were admitted into one of the Nurseries and yet Fury insisted on his entry. If the rumors are to be believed, Fury had appealed directly to the Queens for Barton to be accepted and threatened to leave their service if his request was not granted. That Fury—who Phil respects more than any other—can see so much promise in Barton means that he's someone to watch. That Fury has allowed himself to form such a strong attachment to a Potential is... intriguing.

~^~

It's not until the last day of the trials that Phil sees what separates Barton from everyone before him.

"Your goal for today," Jasper instructs the Potentials, "is to reach the other side of the course in the fastest time possible. Since this is the last, most challenging task we have asked you to complete, the first to reach the far side will receive an unbreakable dagger blessed by the High Queen. Are you ready?"

The Potentials all nod.

"Trainer Hill will signal the start. Good luck to all of you."

Maria waits until Jasper has climbed onto the observation platform before raising her arm and waiting a beat before letting it fall.

All the Potentials race over the first wall of the obstacle course as the trainers watch their progress. Phil's eyes are immediately drawn to Barton—one of the first to reach the top—who pauses while the rest drop down to the ground below. Barton's eyes scan the course and then up to the ropes and pulleys they had used to put the course in place. He then runs along the wall and leaps, catching the first rope and using his momentum to swing to the next. When he reaches the last rope, Barton climbs to the top and moves hand-over-hand along the rafters before flipping through the air and landing precariously on top of the last obstacle. He then executes another flip down to the ground, tucking and rolling until he is standing in front of dais holding the High Queen's dagger.

Phil and the other trainers dutifully stay on the observation platform until all the Potentials have reached the end of the course. By the time they make it to dais, it looks like the only thing holding several of the others back from Barton is his large friend from the sparring mat glaring at them.

"You cheated!"

"You don't belong here, freak."

"Go back to the circus where you belong."

Jasper clears his throat and the Potentials clear a path as the trainers approach Barton. Phil notes with amusement that Cage doesn't move away, loyally shielding Barton from whatever is to come.

"I did not specify that you were required to complete the obstacles, only that you needed to reach the other side. While Clint's strategy was... unorthodox, it was within the bounds of my instructions."

"But it wasn't fair," Barton says softly and steps up to the dais to pick up the dagger. He walks over to Rand, the next Potential to reach the end, and holds out the dagger for him to take. "You earned it."

"I can't—"

"You can." Barton reaches out, taking Rand's hand and wrapping it around the dagger. Rand eventually nods with a small smile. From what Phil can see in his eyes, Barton has earned himself another friend.

"That is all for today," Maria announces. "You will receive your trainer assignments in the morning. Sleep well. The real work begins tomorrow."

The Potentials file out, several of them patting Rand on the back in congratulations. Phil holds up a finger as Barton walks by and he stops next to Phil, waving away Rand and Cage when they both pause in concern. Barton lounges against the empty dais looking completely at ease, but Phil can see how the hand of his drawing arm twitches as if seeking the comfort of a bowstring.

"There was nothing unfair in how you chose to complete the course. On the contrary, it shows that your mind is as agile as the rest of you." Barton shrugs and doesn't meet Phil's eyes or otherwise acknowledge the praise. Perhaps it was time for Phil to try something a little unorthodox himself. "I plan to petition to be your trainer when the Seeker's council arrives this evening."

Barton's wide eyes snap to Phil—the first unchecked reaction he's displayed—and Phil allows a corner of his mouth lift before continuing. "Do not look so surprised. I expect several of the trainers to make the same request after today. I, however, am in the Head Seeker's favor and expect my request to be granted.

"Why..."

"I need you to know that I am only adequately skilled with a bow and the injury to my hip prevents me from being as fast as I wish to be."

"I've watched you with the other trainers. You may hit your mark better with a spear than an arrow, but you cannot be bested with a sword or on the mats."

Phil's eyebrows go up in surprise. The trainer sessions to keep up their own skills are closed to the Potentials. Barton has the sense to look chagrinned as he shrugs again.

"No one ever looks up," he says, drawing Phil's eyes back up to the rafters before meeting Barton's once again. "I still don't understand why you're telling me this."

"You have the promise to be the best Potential we have ever trained at the Citadel. If I put in my request, then it will be my responsibility to nurture that promise into reality. While it is not the norm, in this instance, I would like to know that you are as willingly entering into this partnership as I am."

"I'm not... I'm nothing special."

Phil's jaw nearly drops in shock and he feels a sudden flare of anger at what must have transpired in Barton's life for someone of his skill to see so little of his own worth. Instinct tells him that trying to convince Barton of that now is not the right tactic.

"You can be, if you're willing."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

Barton tilts his head in consideration and then smiles. "Now you sound like Seeker Fury."

"I will take that as a compliment. Now are you willing to take me on as your trainer? I will not be easy on you."

"I would not want you to be."

"Then we are agreed?"

Barton nods and then hesitates. "I do have one request…"

"You may always ask. I may not respond in the way you wish, but I will always hear you."

"I would prefer you call me something other than Barton. Barton was my father and then my brother. Neither are... I like being called Clint or Hawkeye."

"Hawkeye?" 

"My name in the circus."

Phil pauses to consider his response. Since arriving at the Citadel, Barton has had no trouble voicing his opinion—at length—on any subject, but he never uses that voice to ask anything for himself. That he's asking now means that this must be a serious request for him. The request, however, puts Phil in a difficult position. He has always avoided using a Potential's given name in an attempt to keep the necessary distance between them.

"The others often ridicule your time in the circus."

"I don't care what the others think." There is none of the false bravado he often uses around the other Potentials, only confidence. Either Barton is truly proud of the skills he learned in the circus, or he's learned much more about Phil than just his fighting skills.

"Very well," Phil nods. "Sleep well tonight, Hawkeye. You'll need the rest for when we begin your training in the morning."

"Yes, sir."


	3. Building a Partnership

"Must you continue to terrorize your fellow Potentials?" Phil asks as he walks into his office, the knot of fear he carries each time he leaves the Citadel releasing once he sees Clint's familiar broad shoulders and spiky mess of hair.

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

Phil walks around his desk and hides his irrational relief that Clint is still here to admonish. Clint works hard—harder than anyone—at his training, but has never shown the same reverence for the possibility of becoming a guard as the other Potentials. Phil doesn't know what keeps him in the Citadel and cannot help fearing that Clint will one day decide to leave. The thought of Clint disappearing causes an ache in Phil's chest that he's not willing to investigate too closely.

"Rumlow is in the infirmary with a head injury."

Clint blinks at him innocently. "Brock was standing under a tree and then he was on the ground. No one saw what happened."

"And it had nothing to do with Rumlow tripping Rand on the obstacle course?"

"It depends whether you believe the stones ensure balance in—" 

"Hawkeye," Phil warns, but Clint doesn't crack.

"Branches fall all the time, sir."

Phil sighs as he sits in his desk chair, choosing not to continue the argument. Despite the accusations currently flying around the Citadel, Clint is right. There is no proof that Clint, Cage, or Rand had anything to do with the branch falling on Rumlow's head aside from the trio's steadfast loyalty to one another. 

"How much longer is Rand in the cast?"

Clint's eyes narrow in suspicion and Phil fights the urge to sigh again. He truly is concered about the other Potential's wellbeing. 

"A few more weeks."

Phil hums and focuses his attention on the sheaf of papers on his desk. He supposes he should be glad that the payback for Rand's injury wasn't worse. Rumlow has a nasty bump on the head, but nothing life threatening and he'll be fully recovered before Rand is out of his cast. 

They lapse into silence and Clint waits patiently for Phil to address him again. He knows by now that speaking out of turn will only result in a longer wait. 

"Please stop fidgeting," Phil request without looking up. 

Clint rolls his eyes, but stops worrying at the cuff of his sleeve. The battle about Clint's uniform had been arduous, and Phil is not sure who actually won in the end. Clint had so thoroughly charmed the old Citadel seamstress that she had politely refused Phil's requests that Clint dress like every other Potential, citing the same reason Clint always gave—that sleeves interfered with the draw of his bow. The seamstress had only relented after Phil reminded her of the Citadel's policy on accidental skin exposure, but the end result did nothing to help Clint fit in with the others. Unlike the standard black and grey worn by the others, she created for Clint a beautiful jacket accented in a deep burgundy with sleeves that molded to his arms like a second skin. It wasn't until the summer months that Phil learned there was a matching, sleeveless vest beneath the jacket and, with all the other Potentials rolling up their sleeves due to the heat, Phil could not voice a valid protest. Clint has grown taller and broader over the years, the seamstress altering the uniform as needed, and Phil has never again brought up the old argument. 

"Jasper mentioned that you went up to the North Tower while I was gone."

Clint meets Phil's gaze steadily when he looks up. "Potentials are allowed in the towers when we aren't required elsewhere."

It constantly amazes Phil how much of the Citadel's rules and regulations Clint can recite. What better way to bend them, Phil supposes—this instance being a prime example. 

"There are ways to arrive at the tower without scaling the outer cliffs and walls."

Clint smirks unrepentantly. "But those ways aren't nearly as fun."

"Between terrorizing your fellow Potentials and causing no end of grief to the other trainers, one would think you are lacking in activities to keep your attention."

"I don't care about learning all the social niceties of the Capital. We all know I'll never be chosen as a guard."

"No, we do not know that at all," Phil says calmly, unwilling to fall into another old argument, "but I will concede that the social classes are not required. What do you suggest instead?"

"Take me with you on your intelligence missions."

Phil doesn't flinch. "I don't know what you mean. I am merely serving as a messenger for—"

"Don't lie to me! I may be simple, but I have eyes."

"Do not say that again," Phil responds sternly and Clint sits back in his chair with wide eyes, clearly taken aback by the vehemence in Phil's voice. "You are not simple—far from it. I do not care what others refuse to see, but I will not listen to you undermine yourself. Is that understood?"

"Then don't treat me like I can't understand what I see." 

"And what do you see?"

"I've seen you come back with bruised knuckles and red dust in your hair. I've smelled smoke from the sulfur hills lingering on your clothes and seen mud from black swamps caked on your boots. I noticed how carefully you held yourself when you sat down just now, as if your ribs were bruised and your hip sore from overuse."

Phil blinks and tries to contain his reaction to Clint's attentiveness. He shouldn't be surprised, Clint has amazing eyesight, but never expected to be the focus of them.

"Come on, sir," Clint presses. "I've seen you nearly every day for the past four years. Did you really expect me not to figure it out?"

"Even if there were something to figure out, you're—"

"Please don't say I'm too valuable."

"...too young to put yourself in danger."

"You're not _that_ much older than me," Clint scoffs, "and at my age, you'd already fought in a war."

"The kid has a point," another voice interjects and Phil looks over to glare at Nick, who walks further into his office. 

"Need I remind you both that I was permanently injured in that war?"

"It hasn't stopped you from going on these dangerous missions."

"Another good point."

Before Phil can counter, the Citadel chime sounds, signaling the start of afternoon classes. Clint stands automatically, but hesitates and looks between Phil and Nick.

"We'll finish this discussion later," Phil promises, knowing that Clint sincerely hates to miss or be late to Jasper's class. 

Clint nods, jogging out of the room and leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

"Must you insist on treating him differently than the others?"

"Must you insist on believing he needs to be exactly like the others?" Fury counters and takes the seat in front of Phil's desk that Clint vacated. "Why not take him with you when you next meet Selvig? He's a reliable informant and it will give Clint a chance to get out of the Citadel for a few days. You're unlikely to encounter anything he hasn't already. I see no risk in it."

Phil doesn't respond, which is perhaps more telling than if he had argued back. Fury leans back and steeples his fingers as he thinks. 

"It's not a direct risk to Clint that you fear, so what is it? Do you think that a glimpse of the world he left behind will suddenly prod him into leaving the Citadel?"

Phil still doesn't respond and this time, Fury throws his head back and laughs. 

"It amuses me that, for all you two know one another inside and out, you don't know why Clint is here."

"Because of you."

"I brought him this far, but he stays because of you. He's not looking for reasons to leave. He wants to stay, but spending all his time with the others—even his friends—is wearing on him. All they know and dream about are becoming guards."

Phil frowns, unsure if he's willing to believe Fury's assessment. "Why doesn't Hawkeye have the same dream as the others?"

"We all know he's an unlikely candidate."

"Then why bring him here at all?"

"Because my job is to find the best and unlikely guards have been chosen in the past, like Stark. It won't matter in a year, but I will be safe in the knowledge that I've done all for Clint that's within my power to give him."

"Is a new queen this cycle unlikely?"

"There are a few possibilities."

"Then Hawkeye may still be chosen."

Fury sighs wearily. "You're still assuming he wants to be chosen."

"Why would he not?"

"That's something you need to ask him," Fury responds as he stands. "Then maybe you'll be more inclined to show him the other part of your duties to the realm."

~^~

Two days later, Phil finds Clint perched in one of the North Tower's open windows.

"I used the stairs," Clint says without turning to face Phil. 

"Yet the idea of staying fully inside the tower is a concept that still eludes you?"

Clint turns to smirk at Phil as he moves to stand by the window, resting his elbows on the ledge next to where Clint is sitting. "You need to be clearer next time. You only asked that I not get caught scaling the outer walls."

Phil refrains from correcting Clint and gazes out at the amazing vista in front of them. "I can see why you like it up here. The view is quite spectacular."

"There are a pair of red-tailed hawks nesting across the chasm."

Phil squints and can barely make out an unidentifiable lump sitting in the topmost branches of a tree clinging to the side of the far cliff. After all these years, Phil knows better than to doubt Clint eyesight and aim. 

"It may be a while before you see hatchlings."

"Probably not until spring."

They lapse into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Phil broaches the subject foremost on his mind. 

"Will you tell me why you don't want to become a Queen's guard?"

Clint stifles a sigh before answering. "I'm not like the others. I didn't grow up in a Nursery where my only path in life led to serving a queen. While I was with the circus, I was able to see beyond the realm and experience life outside a contained set of walls. I don't think I'm fit to be confined."

"Why do you see being a guard as confinement?"

"You don't? Being a guard means binding your _soul_ to the queen who chose you. The rest of your life will be spent focused solely on protecting the queen and ensuring their happiness. How is that anything less than servitude?"

"You wouldn't be a slave," Phil argues. "Becoming a guard is a role you must take willingly or not at all."

"I won't go willingly."

"Then why are you here? Why remain at the Citadel when you have no desire to be a guard?"

"Because many Potentials who aren't chosen become trainers."

Phil sucks in a shocked breath. "You want to stay? Here?"

"Yes, please," Clint answers almost too softly to be heard. 

They are both still staring out at the horizon and Phil is grateful that he doesn't need to hide his reaction to Clint's hope-filled request. Phil has always been careful not to form attachments with other Potentials. Even when he himself was training at the Citadel, he knew it was futile because no friendship, however strong, could survive a bond with a queen. If Phil is honest with himself, Clint has always been different—hijacking a place in Phil's heart despite his best intentions. 

"Be ready at my office at dusk," Phil instructs. "The rest of your training begins tonight."

Clint's head whips around to face Phil, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Training?"

"There are things better taught outside in the dark of night than within the bright halls of the Citadel."

"I'll be ready, sir."

"Good." Phil nods and walks calmly out of the room despite his wildly beating heart. He still fears that he is making a mistake, but knows he'll never regret anything that makes Clint radiate with joy.

~^~

"This way," Phil says when Clint arrives at his office later that evening.

He doesn't say anything more as they make their way to the trainer's larger meeting room, shutting the door securely behind him. Clint's eyes scan the room and Phil realizes that he's doing more than taking in new surroundings. He waits, testing, until Clint turns toward him. Instead of stepping forward or answering the unspoken question, Phil raises a challenging eyebrow and fights a smile when Clint smirks in response.

Clint walks over to the far wall, running a hand along its surface before glancing around once again. He steps to one side, reaching out and pulling lightly on a sconce, which doesn't budge. Clint frowns at it for a second, tugging at the sconce in multiple directions, and then taking a step back when it continues to remain stationary. Phil starts to step forward to help when he hears Clint's quiet, "Oh." 

Clint throws another smirk over his shoulder at Phil before rubbing his thumb lightly over what should be a nail holding the sconce against the wall. The head of the nail begins to glow, revealing itself to be a small, magical stone. A moment later, the portion of the wall Clint had touched earlier recedes and slides sideways. Sconces flicker to life and illuminate a short passageway leading to a flight of stairs. 

"These tunnels," Phil explains as he steps past Clint toward the stairs, "were dug not long after the magical shield was erected around the Citadel."

"Why?"

Phil waits until they've reached the first landing to respond. "Because they soon realized that a door works best when it's kept shut."

"The shield only works if the front gates remain closed? That… seems like a pretty big oops."

"Magic is not an exact science. Should the need arise, these tunnels allow whomever is in the Citadel to leave without compromising the shield. This large one leads to the Capital."

"That's a long way underground."

Phil shrugs and continues down the stairs. "It's well lit, at least."

"Have you ever used it?"

"No. As you've pointed out, I need to maintain the illusion that I'm headed to the Capital, regardless of whether I am or not."

"Then why are we going this way?"

"Because it would be seen as favoritism by the other trainers if I were to take you with me to the Capital."

Clint rolls his eyes, but doesn't comment further as they reach the bottom of the stairs. 

"Your hand please," Phil requests. He takes the amulet from his pocket and carefully places it on Clint's open palm. "Very few people know of these tunnels' existence. Even fewer have access to enter and exit by this door. It is below the shield which protects the Citadel, but has it's own enchantment. This amulet will allow you to exit and enter freely."

Clint swallows heavily—the trust imparted in the amulet clear—and closes his fingers around it for a moment before slipping the chain around his neck with a small smile. Phil smiles back as Clint tucks the amulet under his tunic, showing Clint the two smaller stones in his other hand. 

"These will allow us to communicate at a distance."

"Those don't have a chain."

"They're meant to go inside your ear. I've been told they are more comfortable than they look."

"If you say so."

Clint dutifully holds his hand back out and Phil drops the small gem into it. Phil takes the other gem and places it in is his ear, waiting patiently until Clint does the same. Clint grimaces and then his face smooths out as the initial discomfort passes. 

"Guess that wasn't so bad."

"We can test them later. For now," Phil says as he opens the door, "it's time to begin your first lesson in stealth."

~^~

"Hawkeye?" Phil asks after activating the gem in his ear. There is a moment of silence and then the small hum of Clint activating his own gem. Clint had taken to wearing his at all times, saying it was more comfortable than taking them in and out regularly.

"We're not going to Triskelion to see the Queens," Clint says, telling Phil that he is still in the main compound with the other Potentials. "We're meeting Fury outside the city to deliver the scrolls he left behind."

"Why is Coulson taking you?" Phil can't quite make out the owner of the voice and guesses that it's likely Rand. 

"He won't tell me why."

"Maybe he doesn't trust you around here by yourself." Another voice—definitely Cage's deep timbre. 

"Come on, you really think Coulson would drag me all that way because he doesn't trust me not to cause trouble? It was just a few feathers… Okay, it was a lot of feathers. They can't prove it was me anyway. Look, I gotta go. Coulson's waiting."

There's rustling and then Clint's voice in a mumbled whisper. "You still can't prove it was me."

"I'm fairly certain that counts as a confession, Hawkeye."

"Not one you can use."

Phil hums noncommittally before thumbing off the gem in his ear. As Clint finally arrives with a smug smirk on his face, Phil shakes his head in fond exasperation, making Clint's smile widen in victory. 

They've grown more comfortable in each other's presence since Clint began his added training several weeks ago. Phil still keeps the necessary physical distance between them, but stopped trying to avoid forming an emotional attachment to Clint. The knowledge that Clint wants to stay and the fluidity in which they worked together outside the Citadel makes Phil's previous arguments about the gaps in their ages and experiences seem inconsequential. They've shared confidences—Phil the atrocities of war and Clint the sadness of his childhood—and have become friends. 

In stealth, Clint is a natural. He is light-footed, his amazing eyesight barely diminishes in the dark, and has experience hunting game. His hunting skills translated well to Phil's lessons in how to track more than food and Clint learned quickly how to cover his own trail. Clint's aim never wavered as they tested it through the different phases of the moon. It didn't take long for Phil to deem Clint ready to accompany him on his next mission, but they still needed a reason for Clint to leave the Citadel. When Phil had mentioned that he was due to meet his informant in a few days, he hadn't expected Rumlow's trainer, Garrett, to wake the next day covered in feathers. Phil can only be grateful that Clint had used honey instead of actual tar. 

Phil motions for Clint to precede him through the gate and then falls into step beside him, their gaits aligning automatically. 

"Feathers?" Phil asks after they've walked some distance from the Citadel. Clint is typically more willing to speak his mind outside the walls.

"He was having Rumlow and his gang aim their trebuchets across the chasm."

"At the tree where the hawks are nesting?"

Clint nods. "I guess they heard me talking to Danny about looking for hatchlings in the spring."

Phil bites back a sigh. As unwilling as he is to critique another trainer, Garrett had to have known that there would be retribution for his actions. He'd been unfairly critical of Clint from the beginning and Phil wouldn't put it past him to have been trying to trap Clint into being caught causing havoc.

"Then I commend you on your restraint. He deserved more than a few sticky feathers."

Clint grins and they continue their journey in comfortable silence. After a few hours on the main road, Phil leads them into the woods and onto a trail that few would be able to follow easily. Clint hikes silently behind Phil, covering their tracks, until they stop in a small clearing to make camp for the night.

"Where are we going?" Clint asks as they share a quick meal.

"To the outer road, near the Asgard border. Selvig and his nieces are star mappers, so they are given a lot of freedom to move between the kingdoms. We should arrive around dusk tomorrow."

"What type of information does he give you?"

"No espionage. I wouldn't want to risk Selvig's standing with the other governments. He primarily keeps an eye out for any change to the various army outposts he passes or large-scale unhappiness among the civilians. Anything that may signal movement towards another war."

"What happened six months ago? You took longer than usual to return."

Phil moves to put the uneaten food away as he answers. "There was a minor uprising in Asgard. I went to investigate when Selvig wasn't at our usual meeting point. He and his nieces had inadvertently placed themselves in the center of the turmoil."

"Inadvertently?" 

"It was dark and Jane ran into the crown prince with their cart."

Clint laughs as he begins to lay out their bedrolls while Phil douses the small fire they'd cooked with. "Probably not the best way to meet a prince."

"Well… he'd been stripped of his royal armor by his father after an argument, which is what led to his younger brother attempting to gain control of the throne."

"And what part did you play in the turmoil?"

"I was able to help recover an ancient hammer that proved Thor was the rightful heir. It had been magicked onto our lands by their father in his rage."

"Ancient hammers and powerful stones," Clint sighs as he lays down and looks up at the stars. "I wonder if the people will ever be trusted to choose our own leaders."

Phil freezes as he settles onto his own bedroll. Leave it to Clint to provide a viewpoint Phil hadn't previously considered.

"I cannot say the same for Asgard, but the stones only provide us guidance. I trust that our people would not follow them blindly if they led us down the wrong path." 

He hears the rustle of Clint's shrug in the darkness. "If you say so."

"It was the Queens who tasked us to protect the peace in addition to training Potentials."

"I was just thinking out loud. I'm not doubting the stones." Clint shrugs again. "I don't really trust most people, which I know is counter to what I said before. I do trust you and Fury, so that's enough for me."

Phil relaxes, but can't help thinking about Clint's earlier words. Had they become complacent in their trust of the stones and the Queens? Asgard has been nearly taken over by a madman and their people would have followed him had Thor not challenged him for the throne. Could the same happen in Midgard? He would need to speak with Fury on how they could prevent it should the worst occur.

"Do you ever look at the stars and see more than their use?" Clint whispers, breaking Phil from his thoughts. 

"What _should_ I see?"

"Their beauty. How all of our failings and complaints pale when compared to the vastness they represent."

Phil looks up at the sky and tries to see beyond the star maps he'd taught Clint to use. He remembers summers when he was very young, how he spent long nights outside gazing at the pattern of stars before he knew that maps existed. He edges closer to Clint and points up at a cluster of stars.

"My mother used to tell me stories about how the stars got their shapes. That one is called the Archer."

Phil recounts as many tales as he can remember and, when they finally fall asleep that night, he dreams, not of wars or coups, but of archers and bears dancing across the sky.

~^~

"I can see the man you described as Selvig, but there's another man with him, not two young women."

They are still a fair distance away from where Selvig has camped for the night and Phil can barely make out the shape of two people against the gathering dusk. 

"What can you see of the other man's features?"

"Not much from this distance. Tall with broad shoulders. Long hair. Blonde, I think."

"Thor."

Clint turns to him with a raised eyebrow. "The Asgardian prince?"

"From what you've described, yes. He was quite enamored with Selvig's niece, Jane, when I last saw them. It's possible they've stayed close, but that doesn't explain why neither she nor Darcy are here. I've never known Selvig to travel without them."

"Do we turn back?"

"No, but we proceed with caution. I'll continue down the road toward them while you stay hidden among the trees."

"Yes, sir," Clint nods. Phil wonders at first about his immediate acquiescence and then remembers that Clint is much more comfortable up high with a larger view of the situation. 

"I'll watch your back, sir," Clint adds as he thumbs the gem in his ear. 

"I know you will."

Phil follows suit, waiting until Clint has disappeared into the tree line before stepping back out onto the road. As Phil gets closer, he sees that it is indeed Thor with the old star mapper, but it does little to calm his instincts of danger. Selvig is huddled on a small log near the fire, scowling severely at Thor, who is sitting across the fire from him. 

"Hello old friend!" Phil greets as he approaches, startling Thor into standing. 

"Phil, Son of Coul. I did not hear you approach."

"I saw him," Selvig sneers without rising. "You were too busy keeping your eyes on me to notice. Some guard you are."

Phil meets Thor's eyes, who is not trying to hide his concern. There is definitely something wrong here.

"Is all well with you, my friend?" Phil asks, sitting next to Selvig as if there was nothing amiss. "Where are Jane and Darcy?"

"Darcy fell ill," Thor answers. "Jane stayed behind to care for her and I came to aid Master Selvig."

"Ah. And you, my friend? Are you also ill? The weather is still quite warm." 

Selvig only huddles deeper into the blanket around his shoulders and Thor, once again, speaks for him.

"He has been complaining of constant cold, but insisted on making the trip."

"I couldn't miss seeing my old _friend_."

"Back!"

Phil rears back at Clint's call just as Selvig lunges toward him. He feels the fletching of the arrow brush against his cheek as it flies by, hitting Selvig in the shoulder, pushing him backward away from Phil. Selvig falls to the ground and a second arrow pins his hand to the ground while a knife falls uselessly beside it.

"Selvig!" Thor cries in shock. He jumps to his feet and starts to step forward, but stops when another arrow hits the ground less than inch from his foot.

"Stay still unless you desire an arrow in a vital area," Phil advises. "My partner never misses."

"What is the meaning of this? Why would Selvig attack you?"

"I don't know," Phil answers as he moves cautiously toward Selvig. "What did you see Hawkeye?"

"His eyes flashed blue before he lunged. I can't see other weapons from here."

Selvig is clutching at his hand, mewling in pain, but not trying to free himself. Phil kicks away the knife and then uses his foot to turn Selvig into his back.

"Explain yourself."

Selvig's eyes are wild and unfocused as they turn to Phil. "He knows who you are, what you are!" Then his eyes flash blue once again and the voice which speaks next is not his own. "I can gain access without you. I will still win. The stone will be mine and then I shall be unstoppable!"

A sinister laugh spills from Selvig's lips and he begins to shudder, his eyes rolling back into his head. Phil steps back and can do nothing but watch until Selvig finally subsides, unconscious. A tense silence fills the camp.

"Well that was creepy," Clint says in Phil's ear. 

"May I step forward?" Thor asks at the same time and Phil nods. "That sounded like my brother's voice."

"Loki? I thought he was in your father's dungeon?"

"Last I knew, he was. He is not so powerful that he could entrance Selvig from there."

"Perhaps he isn't as captive as you believe."

"I need to return to Asgard." Thor squats down by Selvig and touches a gentle hand to his arm. "I owe Selvig a great debt and if he has been taken in by my brother, then our healers should be able to free him."

"I wouldn't touch that."

Phil and Thor both spin around at the sound of Clint's voice. Clint shrugs away Phil's glare and points to where Thor had been about to pick up the knife Selvig had dropped.

"It's probably poisoned or magicked or both. So I wouldn't pick it up with your bare hand." Clint holds up his own hand and wiggles his gloved fingers. "Leather is best against most magic."

"My thanks, friend," Thor says sincerely before taking the scroll pouch from his belt and carefully slipping the knife inside it. "Yet another thing I need to safeguard back to Asgard."

"I don't remember ordering you to join us."

"You didn't tell me not to, either." Clint's eyes widen as Phil steps closer to the light from the fire. His hand reaches up toward Phil's cheek and Phil flinches back automatically, causing Clint to drop his hand back to side and look away. "You're hurt... Sir."

Phil touches his own cheek where he can now feel the scratch that run alongs it. "It wasn't the knife. It was the fletching from your arrow. We need to work on signaling when I'm in your line of sight."

Clint nods, but the look of hurt doesn't leave his face. There isn't really a reason for Phil not to allow his touch—Clint is wearing gloves, after all—but he knows it's a slippery slope to start down. All it takes is a small touch to yearn for much more and Clint is still a Potential.

"You are Hawkeye?" Thor booms, effectively distracting them from the tense moment. He strides up to Clint and claps a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Your eyes are keen and your arrows fly true. You are truly a worthy partner for the Son of Coul."

"Uh… thanks. We should, um, probably patch up his shoulder. I didn't aim for anything fatal, but he can still bleed too much if we don't tend to him."

"A kind heart as well. Come, Eye of Hawk, I will need your assistance Old Selvig."

Thor slings an affectionate arm around Clint's shoulders and Phil barely holds back a second flinch. Clint lets himself be led away with a bemused smile on his face that soon turns genuine as Thor tells stories of his great hunts while they work on Selvig's shoulder. Phil helps hitch up the horses to the cart and ignores the twist in his gut when he sees Clint lay a consoling hand on Thor's arm.

"I'm sorry about your brother. I, uh… I'm sorry."

Thor seems to sense that Clint shares a common experience, but tactfully doesn't press Clint to tell his story. Instead, he places his own hand over Clint's.

"Thank you. Stay safe, my new friend."

"Likewise."

"Safe travels to you as well, Son of Coul."

"Thank you," Phil responds and hands Thor the reins. "The horses are ready. Are you sure you're able to handle them on your own in the dark?"

"Fear not. I am much acquainted with traveling by the light of the moon and stars."

"I will warn the Capital of the impending danger, but a message direct from Asgard would also be helpful."

"Consider it done. I will confirm the state of my brother and send word as soon as I'm able."

Phil and Clint step back as Thor climbs aboard the cart. With a flick of the reins and a hearty wave, Thor is off, leaving Clint and Phil alone by the dying embers of the fire.

"We should start back ourselves," Phil says after a moment of silence.

"What did he mean? Selvig. About his knowing what you really are?"

"I'm not certain. When we first met, I told him I was a war historian. After our last meeting, I'm sure he believed me to be an emissary of the Capital, but never voiced his suspicions."

"And you think Loki is after one of the Queen's stones?"

"From what Thor has told me, what Loki desires most is power. Even just one of the stones would give him plenty of power. Why?"

"It just seems…" Clint shrugs. "I don't know. Too simple."

"A conspiracy to steal one of the stones of power is too simple?"

"Like I said, I don't know. It just doesn't make sense that he'd go to all this trouble for someone he only suspected of being an emissary."

"Maybe I was the easiest to get to. He did say he could get to the stone without me."

"Maybe," Clint sighs. "I just don't have a good feeling about this."

"Neither do I."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'll be glad to be back behind the walls of the Citadel."

"Agreed. Let's go home."

Clint's open smile warms Phil more than the dwindling fire. "Yeah. Let's go home."


	4. Downward Spiral

"Clint is in rare form today," Fury says as he sidles up next to Phil, watching Clint execute a series of handsprings before spinning in midair and landing lightly on his feet. The crowd of children cheer in approval. 

"He's made a new friend." Phil inclines his head to where a red-headed handmaiden is clapping as loudly as the young children. 

"Did you tell Clint why the handmaidens are here?"

"Of course not. You know how much he and the children enjoy his visits to the Nursery. None of us would want him to spend the whole time hiding in the belfry. His befriending one of the handmaidens came as a bit of a surprise." Phil doesn't add that he's made a special point of keeping an eye on them both during the length of the visit.

"That's Natasha," Fury offers without prompting as Clint produces a flower from within his tunic and hands it to the handmaiden. "Those two could be kindred spirits."

"How so?"

"She was found in the remains of the last Red Tower."

"The lair of the dark sisters?"

"She was just a child and Peggy insisted the stones told her that Natasha needed to be raised in Triskelion. She has not had an easy time with the other handmaidens."

"Not unlike Clint."

"Not unlike Clint. But don't worry, I don't think Clint will be so easily swayed away from you or the Citadel."

"What news of the Capital?" Phil asks, ignoring the knowing look Fury gives him for the evasion.

"They have doubled the guards and sentries, but there has been no movement or word from Asgard."

"There was no way to know how quickly Loki would move on the Capital. Perhaps Thor found a way to stop his advance without involving us."

"I don't know if we want to be that optimistic. Seems too clean."

"Now you sound like Clint."

Fury laughs. "I'm not opposed to that comparison. Clint tends to see things clearer than most."

"True. How long will the Capital stay vigilant until they need more proof that an attack is coming?"

"Long enough. Though we may need you and Clint to reach out to your Asgardian friend soon. He doesn't sound like one to break a promise without reason."

"I agree. It worries me that we have not heard from him."

"I need to speak with the headmistress before we leave. If you'll excuse me…"

Phil refocuses on Clint, allowing a small smile to surface as he watches Clint patiently teach the children how to do a simple cartwheel. He has to bite back a laugh when a little boy's enthusiastic attempt nearly knocks Clint down, letting his amusement show in his eyes when Clint looks over. Clint blushes and grins back before turning his attention back to the little boys and girls. 

A few minutes later, the hourly bell chimes and all the children groan in disappointment. Clint looks over at Phil to confirm that yes, it's time for them to pack up and head back to the Citadel. Phil watches a bit longer as Clint says his goodbyes to the children and Natasha, who looks equally sad to see Clint go. Phil turns away to seek out Fury, but is stopped short by Trainer Garrett.

"I have to say, you're much more cunning than I gave you credit for, Coulson."

"As complimentary as that is, I'm not sure I understand what's prompting the change in your opinion of me."

"Come on. It's genius. Training an outcast to attract another outcast. Now it explains why by-the-book Coulson would stoop to training a circus freak."

Phil's jaw clenches in anger, but he refuses to react to Garrett's taunting. "Clint's past does not make him any less a Potential. If anything, it's—" 

"Yeah. He's got skill. Blah, blah. Stop playing coy. All your trips to the Capital playing messenger for Fury. You had to have stumbled upon the girl. So you encourage the freak to be different, let him get away with all sorts of trouble, just to keep him an outcast. Then you lie to him so he doesn't screw up meeting the girl. Like I said, it's genius."

"You're mad."

"I'm right," Garrett says confidently. "You won't win though. Just because the High Queen was too compassionate to kill the brat, it doesn't mean she'll be chosen as the new Queen. Brock had all the other handmaidens drooling over him today. He'll be the next guard, not your little freak."

"Call him that again and you'll see how cunning I still am with a blade."

"Stop pretending you actually care about the… kid. We all know better now."

Garrett walks away and Phil has to close his eyes and take several deep breaths to control his anger. When he feels calm enough to open them again, Clint is standing in front of him, eyes shuttered and face blank of any emotion. A chill runs down Phil's spine.

"Hawkeye. You heard—"

"Is it true? The handmaidens are who become queens?"

"Yes."

"And they're here today to meet us."

"To determine if there are possible matches, yes. I should have told you."

"Why didn't you? The others knew, didn't they? That's why they've all been primping."

"I don't know what the other trainers told their Potentials. I wanted you to enjoy your time here. I know you love being with the younger children."

"And you couldn't trust me with the truth."

"That's not—" Phil stops and takes a deep breath, fighting the panic coiling in his gut. "I was wrong. I should have told you. That doesn't mean anything Garrett just said is the truth."

"Because there is a more valid reason why a ranking trainer, a decorated veteran, a shining example of the best the Citadel can produce, would take on someone so unlikely to be chosen as a guard."

"I chose you because of your skill and your mind. You have to believe that."

"Do I?"

Before Phil can respond, Rand runs up to pull Clint away. "There you are! Come on. We're supposed to be helping Luke load the wagons."

Clint walks away without looking back at Phil, leaving him wondering how everything could spiral out of control so quickly.

~^~

"Have you seen Hawkeye?"

Clint has been avoiding Phil for the past few days, so Phil had come out to the archery range in the hopes of finding him practicing with the other Potentials.

"Why are you asking me?" Jasper asks as he leans against his bow. "He still mad at you for tricking him into performing for the handmaiden?"

"I didn't trick him, I just didn't explain who they were. Did you tell Rand about them?"

"No, but Danny's feelings on becoming a guard—or not—are not as strong as Clint's." 

"Are you saying I misjudged Clint's reaction to my omission?"

"I'm saying that maybe Clint needs to hear you care more about his wellbeing as much as you care about your duty to the Citadel. That, and I excused him from the rest of training because Brock was being an ass and Clint looked ready to fill him with holes. My guess is that he's headed towards the tower."

"Thank you."

"Good luck."

Phil starts to head toward the North Tower and then realizes that he doesn't want Clint to feel cornered. He stops at his office on the way and picks up his communication gem. He activates it and then waits for the answering hum of Clint doing the same. 

"Hawkeye?"

"Sir."

"Are you willing to talk to me? Or do you need more time?"

Clint sighs and Phil can imagine him slumping against whatever wall he's walking by. "I know you wouldn't lie to me."

"Thank you."

"But the stuff Garrett said…"

"Don't let his narrow-mindedness make you doubt yourself." _Or me._

"Why didn't you tell me about the handmaidens?"

"Is it so hard to believe I did it for your benefit?"

Clint scoffs and then quietly says, "Maybe."

"It's so rare to see you openly happy. When we visit the Nursery, you laugh more and really enjoy yourself. I didn't want you to lose that for something I didn't think would impact you."

"And Natasha?"

"I'm glad you made a friend, but I'd never met or heard of her until that day. Fury said you could be kindred spirits."

"She looked lonely. I don't think she gets along with the other handmaidens."

And Clint gravitates to people who need someone to care for them. "Hopefully you'll see her again."

"Maybe."

"Where are you?"

"On my way up the tower."

"May I join you?"

"Yeah, 'course you can."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

Phil moves to the cupboard behind his desk, intending to grab a small bottle of mead to share with Clint, when Clint's voice comes back across the gem.

"Oh, hello. I didn't think anyone else would be up here."

"That's quite all right. You're far from a disturbance."

Phil reaches past the bottle of mead for the magicked crossbow Queen Pepper had given him. He knows that voice.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Clint."

"I'm Loki."

Phil runs out of his office toward the tower as fast as his legs will carry him.

"Are you new here?"

"Don't be coy, dear boy. I knew you figured out who I was as soon as you entered. You're that one, aren't you? The one that Coulson dotes on."

"Coulson is my trainer, yes."

'Were you there the night I failed to take him?"

"I don't know what you mean. Potentials are not allowed to leave the Citadel without permission."

Loki laughs and Phil runs up the stairs, two at a time.

"You are brave for a boy. You have heart, like your trainer. Nevertheless, I will get what I want and perhaps I'll take you as compensation."

Phil bursts through the door with the crossbow raised to fire. He fires the bolt as soon as he has Loki in sight and watches with satisfaction as Loki flies through the open window.

"Sir!"

"Are you okay?" Phil has to curl his fingers into his palms to keep from reaching out and physically ensuring that Clint is unharmed.

"I'm good. I'm fine. Loki?"

Phil and Clint run over to the window and look down, expecting to see the Asgardian falling to his death. Instead, they find him clinging to the back of a winged, silvery-grey creature. 

"Is that what I think it is?"

"A dark dragon," Phil answers disbelievingly. 

The Chitauri—or dark dragons—are an abomination created by the evil sorcerer, Thanos, who had once sought to capture the entire world to his rule. The stories of his eventual demise are varied, but the dragons themselves had been contained to a volcanic island in the middle of the vast ocean. It was believed that the small, fierce dragons could not traverse the distance to the mainland and had not been seen again, until today. 

"I thought they were supposed to be uncontrollable by anyone other than Thanos himself."

"I thought they were too far away for it to matter."

They watch as Loki rights himself onto the back of the dragon and glares up at them. With a wave of his staff, the dragon lifts him up, level with Phil and Clint. 

"Your meddling is becoming tiresome. Nevertheless, I will get what I desire. Razing your precious Citadel to the ground will only be added amusement."

Phil and Clint automatically stagger back as the dragon releases its fiery breath, but the shield holds, flickering to life with a flash of blue light. They step back to the window as Loki flies off with an evil laugh.

"What did he mean by— Oh."

Clint has followed Loki's path of travel and Phil squints against the view of the horizon. "What do you see?"

"I don't think that's a flock of birds."

Now that Clint points it out, Phil can see a mass of dark flecks against the sky. It's hard to distinguish from the long distance, but he agrees that they look much larger than the birds normally seen in this area.

"More dragons?"

"Even I can't see that far, but they're not flying like birds. Definitely headed this way."

"We need to tell the others."

They run out and meet Fury, Jasper, Garrett, and Maria halfway down the stairs.

"We saw the shield flare. Are we under attack?" Fury asks.

"Yes."

"By who?"

"Loki."

Fury swears, but Jasper and Maria only look on in confusion. 

"What's a Loki?"

"Loki is a mad Asgardian prince who wants to get his hands on a stone of power. We thought he was after one of the Queens' stones," Fury explains.

"It looks like he wants ours."

"We have a stone here?"

"What do you think powers the shield?"

"The Tesseract is a minor stone. We never believed there was much danger in having it so far from the Capital."

"Wait. Only those who've lived in the Citadel know of the shield and the Tesseract. How did Loki learn of it?"

"Let alone get inside the Citadel to look for it."

"Loki was inside?"

"Up in the tower. Trainer Coulson shot him out the window, but he had a dark dragon with him. That's what set off the shield. He has a whole flock of them headed this way."

"Dark dragons?!"

"First thing first," Fury interjects. "How in stone's name did Loki get through the shield?"

"Son of a—" Before anyone else can react, Maria turns and punches Garrett in the jaw. Only the narrow stairwell keeps him from falling down the steps. 

"Maria!"

"It was Garrett. He's been spending a lot of time roaming the grounds lately—places that have never held interest for him before—and early this morning, I caught him by the gate for no reason."

Garrett doesn't bother denying Maria's accusation as he wipes a trickle of blood from his lip. "It doesn't matter. Once Loki had the Tesseract, he'll be unstoppable and I'll rule by his side."

Jasper growls in anger and takes a threatening step toward Garrett, but Fury stops him with a raised hand. "He's not worth it. Just get him out of my sight, contain him, and start gathering the others on the outer wall." 

Jasper prods Garrett to start walking and Maria follows them down as Fury turns back to Clint and Phil. 

"Clint, I need you to gather the other Potentials into the main training room. Tell Danny and Luke to keep an eye on Rumlow, and then come back here, up to the Tower."

"Yes, sir."

Clint flicks a quick glance at Phil before trotting down the stairs. Phil watches him go for a moment, still sensitive to having nearly lost him to Loki, and then turns his attention back to Fury. Fury looks concerned, which sends fear skittering down Phil's spine.

"Chitauri?"

"Yes. I've seen the one the Capital zoo keeps for study. It was definitely a dark dragon. The others are too far to see clearly, but Clint said they didn't fly like birds."

"He would know. How many?"

Phil shakes his head. "Again, they were too far, but my guess would be at least a dozen, maybe two. And before you ask, no, I can't tell you how soon they'll get here either."

"When Clint gets back, see if he can estimate how fast they're flying. Then you have a decision to make."

"Sir?"

"The Tesseract is buried beneath the Citadel. We can't flee before Loki and his dragons arrive. The Tesseract _is_ a minor stone, it won't be able to withstand dragon's breath indefinitely. Between the shield and us, we should be able to hold them off until help arrives, but there may not be much left when it does." Fury reaches out and places a strong hand on Phil's shoulder. "They are no longer children, but it is still our responsibility to protect the Potentials. They are not battle ready."

"You're sending them down the tunnels."

"Yes."

"Hawkeye?"

"Is not like the others. I would like nothing more than to have his bow and his aim with us, but that is not my decision to make."

"Why is it mine?"

"Phil…"

"You're the one who found him. If you hadn't searched—"

"Phil!" Fury interrupts, giving Phil a shake with the hand on his shoulder. "Whether or not you've admitted it to yourself, I know how you feel about Clint and that he feels the same about you. I also know that, if it were me, I'd want the ability to make the choice."

"What would you…?"

"It doesn't matter what I would do."

"He won't want to go."

"Neither would I. Neither would you. But he'll go because you asked him to." Fury waits for Phil to nod before dropping his hand. "Go back up and wait for Clint. I'm going to go make sure the others haven't thrown Garrett off the wall."

Phil nods again and slowly makes his way back to the top of the tower. His gut tells him that there is nobody else he wants fighting at his side other than Clint. His heart, however, aches at the thought of losing Clint. Not even the thought of spending their last moments side-by-side alleviates the pain of Clint dying. The choice is clear, but is Phil strong enough to send Clint away?

"Sir?"

Phil turns and smiles when he sees that Clint has taken the time to grab his quiver and bow. He motions for Clint to join him by the window.

"Fury wants to see if you can tell how soon the dragons will arrive."

"They're not close enough to anything I know the distance to," Clint says with a sigh of frustration. "I can't…"

"Yes, you can. Try."

Clint refocuses and stares intently at the horizon. "If I assume the size of those trees… I'd say an hour, maybe a little less. They're not moving overly fast."

"Thank you," Phil says as Clint turns to face him. "We need you to take the Potentials down, through the tunnel to the Capital. The tunnel is magicked. You will travel much faster than you would above ground. Take the others to safety and alert the Capital to the attack."

"How much faster?"

"About a third of the time."

"That would still take hours. Can the shield withstand that much dragon's breath?"

"No. But even if the shield falls, we should be able to keep them away from the Tesseract long enough for help to arrive."

"Then let me stay and help."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's too dangerous. You need to get the others to safety and send help from the Capital."

"I'll get them to the tunnels and come back. They're capable of running to the Capital and sending help without me there to guide them. Let me stay."

"No, Hawkeye."

"Why? Because I'm too young? Because I'm a Potential? That's all bullshit and you know it. You can't—" 

"Clint," Phil says softly, reaching out to cup Clint's cheek with his hand. The flow of words stop as Clint sucks in a sharp breath. It's their first touch and Phil imagines he can feel the spark of connection through the leather of his glove. 

"You know I've never lied to you," Phil continues. Clint swallows and nods mutely, his eyes wide with fear and what Phil thinks is longing. "I want you to stay. I've always wanted you to stay, but now I need you to go. No matter what happens here, I need to know that you'll live and that you'll thrive. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," Clint nods and doesn't move. "I lo—" Clint's voice breaks on the word and Phil smiles, brushing his thumb across Clint's cheek. 

"I know, Clint. I do too."

Clint closes his eyes and places a kiss against Phil's palm. Then he's gone and Phil feels as if all the warmth in his life has gone with him. He makes his way down to where the other trainers are gathering, taking his place at Fury's side. As he looks out to gauge the advance of the dragons, his eye is caught by movement in the trees across the chasm—the hawk's nest. He remembers Clint once telling him that these hawks mate for life and that thought comforts him more than the shield in his grasp.

~^~

The battle is a blur. It takes just under an hour for the dragons to arrive at the Citadel—a fact Phil notes with pride—and their initial attempts are uncoordinated. They attack the the shield at random with little effect until Loki organizes the into attacking the shield above the trainers gathered at the outer wall. The shield manages to hold for another hour. From there, the battle truly begins.

The dragons, maddened by triumph, return to their uncoordinated attack. Their hides are tough, but are no match for the trainers' coordinated strikes. They manage to take down four dragons before losing one of their own. Loki, seeing his disadvantage begins flying through the trainer ranks, not to harm, but to scatter them for the other dragons to attack. Then suddenly, help arrives.

First to arrive are two of the Queen's guard—Tony with his magic fire and Steve with his unbreakable shield. With them is, surprisingly, Thor wielding the ancient hammer and, even more surprisingly, Monk Bruce—secluded for years after accidental exposure to a magical potion—as his giant, green alter ego. They charge at the dragons with no fear, quickly turning the tide in their favor.

Then from within the Citadel spill soldiers from the Capital, strengthening the trainer ranks so that they can make a final push against the dragons. The dragons, unaware of their peril, do not run. They continue to fly down, putting them within reach, and allowing themselves to be taken down, one after another.

It's almost over when Phil sees a dragon go down with a single, well-placed arrow to its eye. In his distraction, he doesn't see Loki behind him until he feels the heat of pain from Loki's spear piercing through his back and out of his chest. He looks down at the spear point in surprise as it slips out of his body with Loki's laugh echoing in his ear while he falls to the ground.

There are screams and yells and the heat of magic fire above him, but it's all hazy and dull to Phil. He knows he's dying and focuses the last of his thoughts on the one thing that matters. He recalls it all, from the moment Phil first saw those beautiful blue-green eyes to the featherlight touch of lips against his palm.

"Phil!" Fury yells as he drops down beside Phil's prone body.

"You were right, sir. I wasn't immune."

"Just stubborn. Don't you die on me. That's an order. Now that you know, you gotta live to stop being less oblivious."

"Sorry, sir," Phil coughs weakly. "I… I just needed a… push."

All of Phil's strength is gone. He draws Clint's face from his memory, wanting it to be the last thing he thinks of, and the memory is so sharp that Phil can almost believe it's real. Phil smiles and lets the darkness claim him.


	5. Facing the End

Phil opens his eyes with no idea where he is. 

"Hello, sir."

Phil's head feels like lead when he turns it in the direction of Clint's voice.

"Clint. What...?"

"Do you remember anything that happened?"

Phil's mind feels as heavy as the rest of his body and it takes him several long moments to recall what happened at the Citadel.

"Loki. Dragons."

Clint nods. "We won."

"Then why do you look so sad?"

"You died."

"I—" It comes back to Phil in a rush. Loki stabbing him through the chest, the darkness closing in, and… "You were there. At the end. You were really there?"

"Yes. We ran all the way to the Capital. The tunnel moves you faster the faster you move. I sent back help, but I couldn't just stay there."

"How did you get back so quickly?"

"They've, uh, been able to harness the power of a new stone. It allows them to move a few people from place to place at the blink of an eye. They sent the guards, the soldiers ran through the tunnel, and I…"

Clint bites his lip and looks away.

"You, what?"

"I bargained with Natasha to send us too. She's made friends with the guards and they've been teaching her to fight. When we found you, she was the one who kept you alive until we could get you to a healer. She said there was still power left in the Tesseract even though the shield fell."

Phil struggles to sit up and Clint turns back to face him, still looking unbearably sad.

"What did you bargain, Clint?"

"I promised to be her guard. When she's chosen to become a Queen, we'll be bonded."

Phil opens his mouth, but no words come. He can barely keep air moving through his lungs, his chest as painful as when Loki stabbed through it.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave you to your death any more than you could send me to mine."

"Clint…"

"Thank you. For everything. I'll always… Goodbye, Phil."

~^~

The day dawns bright and clear on the morning of the bonding ceremony. It's been two weeks since they stopped the attack on the Citadel and Phil is physically healed. Phil hasn't seen Clint and the next time he does, it will be to witness him pledging himself to another.

Phil holds back a sigh as he steps into the ceremony room, moving forward until he's standing next to Fury. This ceremony will be small, with only the Queens, their guards, Phil, Fury, Natasha, and Clint in attendance. The grander coronation will be scheduled in another week's time.

"You holding up okay?" Fury asks.

"As well as can be expected."

"You know you don't have to be here."

Phil shakes his head. "I'm recovered and it's customary for the new guard's trainer to be at the bonding ceremony. Beyond that, I needed to be here."

"If you say so."

A side door opens and the Queens enter with their guard. First is Steve Rogers with High Queen Peggy, who is still statuesque and beautiful despite her age. Her stone had given her the power of life, a gift she's shared with the healers, but doesn't often use the magic to keep the usual wrinkles and grey hair at bay. Steve, on the other hand, has not changed since they bonded all those years ago. 

Second are Pepper, the most recently crowned Queen, and Tony Stark, her guard. Pepper was as obvious a choice by the stones as Tony was the most unlikely choice of guard. Tony had barely made it through his training at the Citadel, but they had proven themselves the correct pair. They have used the raw power of Pepper's stone and Tony's inventive genius to improve the lives of nearly everyone in the realm.

Phil doesn't expect the next two to enter to be Thor and Jane. Thor and Jane had been at the Capital with confirmation that Loki had escaped, just as Clint arrived with news of the attack on the Citadel. Thor had stayed after the battle to watch over as his severely injured brother recovered enough to return him to Asgard. He isn't sure why they will be witnessing the ceremony.

Before Phil can ask Fury, Clint and Natasha enter and Phil can't do anything but look his fill. Clint appears as if he's walking in a daze, eyes void of emotion as he takes his place standing in front of Queen Peggy. Natasha doesn't look much better.

"Do you both enter into this bond fully and voluntarily?" Queen Peggy asks.

"Yes."

"Yes." Clint's voice is strong, but Phil can see the fingers of his drawing hand twitch with nervousness. 

"Please kneel and remove your gloves."

Clint and Natasha do as she asks. Clint lays his gloves on the floor in front of him and his fingers twitch again before he forces them to relax at his sides.

"Clint, may I have your hand?"

Clint raises his arm and hold his hand steady in front of Queen Peggy. She places a large, smooth stone in Clint's palm and then motions for Natasha's hand. She places Natasha's palm over the top of the stone and the stone begins to glow before it flickers and goes dark once again. A shocked silence follows.

"It didn't work. Everyone saw that, right? It didn't work."

"Yes, Tony," Pepper responds patiently. "We all saw that."

Clint looks at the stone in his hand, at Natasha, and then at Queen Peggy. "I don't understand."

"Like Tony said, it didn't work."

"Did I… did I do something wrong?"

Phil's heart clenches at the plaintive note in Clint's voice. Every muscle in his body tenses as he fights the urge to rush forward and put himself between Clint and the rest of the room.

"Easy, Phil," Fury advises. "There is no threat to him here."

"Of course not," Queen Peggy assures Clint with an understanding smile. She moves Natasha's hand off the stone, but keeps it and Clint's hand in her grasp. "The stone knows what's truly in our hearts, despite what our minds are unable to see."

"I made a promise."

"And I'm not saying you're breaking that promise. You didn't understand that a higher promise already supersedes it."

"I still don't understand."

"My dear, you cannot bond to Natasha when you are already bonded to another."

Clint gapes at Queen Peggy. "That's not possible. We— I have always been careful."

"Because you wear leather gloves and don't make physical contact?" Queen Peggy rolls her eyes and gives Fury a pointed look. "I keep telling you those practices are outdated."

"Are you kidding me?" Tony gripes. "I hated those damn gloves. It took me years to get rid of the tan lines."

"Shush Tony"

Peggy ignores the exchange and refocuses on Clint, speaking with a cadence of a teacher with a young student. "From the moment we are born, our souls reach out toward others. Imagine it like gossamer, spreading from soul to soul, creating an intricate web. Every soul is changed by its contact with another, but on rare occasions, two souls can intertwine so strongly that they thread together. That true bond does not need touch and no stone, however powerful, can break it."

"If Clint is already bonded," Pepper inquires, "then who will be Natasha's guard when she becomes Queen?"

"You still assume Natasha desires to be Queen."

All eyes turn to Natasha, who looks steadily back at Queen Peggy. "I do not want to be Queen. Like Clint, I felt I owed you a debt. You could have made a different choice."

"And what do you want to be?"

"I think I make a better fighter than a queen."

"They both fought well in the battle against the Chitauri," Steve offers, not mentioning that neither Clint or Natasha should have been at the battle.

Queen Peggy gives Steve a fond smile before turning her gaze to Fury. "And now I owe Seeker Fury my nicest bottle of wine for his insight."

"Perhaps we should speak elsewhere about your options," Fury says when Natasha spins toward him.

"I think it's time we all go elsewhere," Pepper suggests tactfully. "Lunch?"

There is a chorus of agreement and everyone begins to leave. Only Thor takes a moment to stop by Clint, placing a supporting hand on his shoulder. "As I told you, my friend, you are well matched."

Thor doesn't give Clint time to respond before he too is walking out the door. Phil waits until the door is shut firmly behind them before stepping in front of Clint. Clint hasn't taken his eyes off the stone Queen Peggy has left in his hand.

"Clint?" Phil asks after a long moment of continued silence.

"I was ready to do it—willingly. I was ready to be bonded to someone I cared for, but couldn't fully love. I knew Natasha would be kind. It was more than worth your life. I was ready." 

"And now?"

Clint looks up, his eyes shining with joy and love. "I've never been happier in my life. If you'll still have me."

Phil laughs because Clint is teasing. There is no insecurity in his grin or in his eyes because they both know now—maybe always have—that the one place they will always belong is together.

Instead of speaking unnecessary words, Phil reaches down and carefully removes his gloves, dropping them onto the floor on top of Clint's abandoned ones. Clint's eyes widen and his smile turns soft as Phil steps closer and reaches out to cup his cheek. They both sigh at the contact, the sensation warm and familiar, not shocking. 

Clint leans into Phil's palm. "I love you."

"And I love you."

They move closer, their lips meeting in a kiss at the same moment that Phil places his hand over Clint's and the stone. It flares to life, confirming what their hearts already know.

They are one.


	6. Epilogue

Clint pats the familiar bricks of the tower fondly as he swings himself up to sit on the window ledge. He looks out across the chasm, enjoying the coming sunset and trying to see the new hawk's nest among the tree branches.

"Did you forget about the stairs again?" Phil asks as he comes to stand next to Clint from the inside of the tower.

"Jasper's used to me by now."

"The junior trainers are not."

Clint laughs and opts not to tell Phil that he may have hinted that climbing the outside of the North Tower was part of the training. 

"Have you found the nest yet?"

"I think so. It's hidden pretty well. Six trees to the right of the first nest."

"Is it really the hatchling returned?"

"We'll never know for sure, but it feels right."

Phil hums in agreement and they lapse into a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's presence as much as the view in front of them.

"Any word from Asgard?" Clint finally asks.

"No, but Thor won't stay away long with Jane at the Capital."

Clint nods, knowing that Phil is right. Maybe Thor will even stop by the Citadel on his way to the city. Jane had been given access to the old star maps and other documents held in the Triskelion libraries to study, so Thor now spent as much time there as Asgard. Phil's theory was that the Queens were hoping to convince Jane to become Queen. 

"They still haven't determined who set Loki free," Phil adds. "Even with help from Pepper and Tony."

"Maybe we don't want to know."

There has been growing concern that Loki's attempt to capture the Tesseract was part of a larger plot to take the other stones both in Asgard and the Capital. With Queen Peggy's support and Seeker Fury's guidance, the Citadel has shifted its focus to finding and stopping the growing threat.

"It's better we know what we're up against."

"I guess I was just hoping for a few more years of peace."

"I thought you were eager for more missions?"

"But less eager to risk both our lives again."

Phil presses his shoulder into Clint's for a moment before stepping back and holding out his hand. "More reason to treasure the time we do have together."

"I suppose that's one way to look at it." Clint takes Phil's hand and lets himself be guided inside, using their joined hands to pull Phil close and give him a kiss. "Let's try and make that time last as long as possible, okay?"

"Says the man who likes to climb up towers from the outside."

"I'm not the one who nearly died," Clint reminds him with a frown. The memory is still too close for Clint to take lightly.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke about it."

"Maybe someday, but not yet."

"Okay. But you know I'm a lot less worried about it now, right?"

"Why?"

"Because I have you to watch my back."

Clint kisses Phil for that because they've had lengthy arguments about Phil sending Clint away during a fight. Then he kisses Phil again because he can. And again until Phil pull backs with an apologetic smile.

"As much as I'd like to continue, Natasha's waiting. She wants to leave for the monastery tonight."

"Are Steve and Tony meeting us there? Or on the road?"

"I'm not certain."

"Do you think Tony can really convince Bruce to move back to the Capital? He hasn't been back since the accident. We were lucky to catch him on the road outside."

"Maybe. The battle proved that he's capable of controlling his other self. As for his willingness to believe that, well…"

"Tony's a lot more charismatic than you're willing to admit?"

Phil shrugs and takes Clint's hand once more to lead him out. They're at the door when Phil stops suddenly and reaches into his tunic, pulling out a small pouch and handing it to Clint.

"Before I forget, I brought you these." 

Clint grins, taking the pouch into both hands and opening it. What he sees inside makes him gasp in surprise.

"Blackberries?"

"I know they're your favorite."

"Yes, but I—" Clint stops, thinking hard about the day and what significance it may have. When he realizes what it must mean, he can only stare at Phil in shock.

"Happy Birthday, Clint."

"I… I haven't…" Clint can't get the words out past the lump in his throat. The last birthday he'd celebrated was with his mother.

Phil wraps his arms around Clint and holds him tight. "I know, Clint. But the day of your birth deserves to be celebrated, even in a small way." 

Their bond is subtle, rarely making itself know, but as Clint hugs back, he tries to focus as much love and appreciation as he can to Phil. When it comes through, it includes an image of Clint's mother and a few of Clint's best memories of Barney. Phil hugs him tighter for a moment in response before slowly removing his arms.

Clint slips the pouch into his own tunic and thinks about his life now. Phil, Fury, Jasper, Maria, Natasha, and even his growing friendships with Thor, Tony, and Steve—his new family. No matter what threat they may face from here, Clint knows without doubt that he will never be alone again. He can feel his grin stretching the edges of his face when he takes Phil's hand to lead him down the stairs.

"Let's go help make the world a safer place."

~ _fin_ ~


End file.
